Kia ora,
I write this a week on from ANZAC (Australia New Zealand Army Corps) Day here in Aotearoa New Zealand. I spent that morning on the brink of tears. First there were the ‘Tākaka Mounted Rifles’, a group of people on horseback, in military uniform. They also brought a riderless horse, in honour of the ‘lost soldier.’
And on a deeper level, my father grew up in WW2, and went on to become a career soldier before moving to escape the army in the 1960s. He died 20 years ago, and ANZAC day always reminds me of him.
I’m still cobbling his story together. Dad thought it was boring, and although I tried, I didn’t record much of it. And then he died unexpectedly, taking with him a huge encyclopaedia of history. The man had an impressive memory for details. The longer I live, the more I wish I knew more.
This week, carrying on with our series of shared snippets from your memoirs, we have a story about one of the hardest things a family could face: a child with cancer. It’s only short, and is dappled with hope.
Michael – by Elizabeth Pilaar
“Don’t worry, I’ve already had a good life!” Michael smiled at me as he spoke, in an encouraging tone, and I was floored. What a thing to say! I’d come into his bedroom to see how he was soon after we’d heard that the cancer we thought had been dealt to had come back. And instead of being down about it, he was calm.
He also volunteered, “When I wake up in the morning it’s hard. But then I decide to smile and it’s okay.” Choices – always we have a choice how we respond to what happens to us.
Michael was right, he had had a good life already – but that didn’t mean it was time for him to leave us! He was 18 years old and part of our home-schooling family, in Rotorua, where love and music, learning, adventure, and faith, were integral to our way of life. His positivity was amazing and belied his years.
This story is both about our journey with Michael, and the choices and decisions we make in life. We can’t stop major things happening to us, but we can make decisions about how we respond to them.
What did you feel as you read Elizabeth’s words? I would feel her shock and sadness, but also her son’s resilience, love for his mother and a wisdom beyond his years.
If you’re writing your memoir, life story or family history, please know that it will be valued one day. As well as your families, I hope you’ll share your book with your local libraries and museums.
Keep writing,
Charlotte
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PS
PS if you’d like the skills, support and company to finish your story, join my course Write Your Memoir this winter.
PPS If you live near Nelson or Golden Bay, I’m launching two ‘Write Your Memoir in One Year’ courses in those communities over the next two months. The Nelson course starts May 25, read about it here. The Golden Bay course starts June 15, read about it here.
Charlotte Squire 